Biting Bullets
by HogwartsAsWeKnowIt
Summary: To be honest, I never meant to punch him in the face. I don't think he intended to shoot me. Kissing him was unexpected. And losing my title of "virgin" wasn't in the plan. But sometimes you just can't prepare for battle. Especially when you've fallen in love with a billionaire playboy. (One-shot, Stony)


**Biting Bullets**

To be honest, I never meant to punch him in the face. I don't think he intended to shoot me. Kissing him was unexpected. And losing my title of "virgin" wasn't in the plan. But sometimes you just can't prepare for battle. Especially when I've fallen in love. STONY ONE SHOT

_Pre-Iron Man 3 and Thor 2_

_From the POV of Steve Rogers_

_Rated T for using the words fuck and shit, and also because Stony is sexual :P_

_A-N: First off, I've never broken my nose or any bone in my body so I'm gonna start by apologizing if you find the description inaccurate. If it seems a little dramatized, keep in mind that we're dealing with the Drama King Tony Stark and the fact he was punched in the face by Captain America. Also, the majority of this was written in the early hours of the morning so if you find any mistakes I missed while editing just try to ignore them. Another thing: I tried to keep Steve and Tony in character, but with Stony it's really hard, so yeah it's a little OOC._

_Please R&R :)_

* * *

"Holy _shit_," I shot up in bed, sweating and shaking. After a few brief moments, I clasped my hand over my mouth realizing the word that had just escaped my lips.

_Dammit Stark, now you're influencing my language too_, I thought, scowling.

As usual, it had been another night of horror-filled war nightmares and suffering from PTSD. Trying to calm my breathing down, I placed my head in my knees and inhaled and exhaled slowly. Beads of sweat poured down the side of my face, and my hands felt as if I had just fired a gun. My hair was ruffled after all my tossing and turning. I had awoken to the sound of screaming, and now that I thought about it, it was probably my own.

After the Battle of New York and moving into Stark Tower with the other Avengers, my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder just increased, and now Chitari and Loki were battling in my dreams as well as Schmitt.

Flashbacks filled my visions now.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_I quickly crawled behind my shield as the Chitari picked up the bomb and chucked it at me. After a blinding explosion, I found himself atop a crushed car, and groaned in pain._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

_Bucky behind me, I stared across the burning floor to Schmitt who was becoming Red Skull right before my eyes._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

_"You could have the power of the gods!" Red Skull yelled at me, his German accent strong._

_I felt a Hydra gun being shot near my left ear. My head burned from the impact of punches and my shield smacked against my face._

_"Yet you wear a flag upon your sleeve and think you fight a battle of nations!"_

_I desperately ran along the railing, dodging bullets._

_"I have seen the future Captain. There are no flags!"_

_My own voice filled the room, "Not my future!"_

_I flipped off the ledge and grabbed my shield, and sent it sailing towards Schmitt's chest._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

_A pain shot through my back; I had been shot twice in the last seven minutes. I continued fighting, shooting some person with a black mask in the face. He stopped abruptly and crumpled to his knees._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

_Peggy walked across the room to me, in a stunning red dress with thin straps and tight fabric. Wearing her signature red lipstick, she approached me, the _clip-clop_ of her heels echoing through the otherwise empty room._

_She was in touching distance before she began transforming in front of my eyes._

_The skin of her face turned red, and shrunk against her skull. Her elegant clothing turned into a Nazi uniform._

_I was staring into the dark eyes of Red Skull._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

"No!" I screamed. Finally my eyes focused and I realized a figure right in front of me, clutching his nose and crying out in pain.

"Oh my- Tony what-" I stumbled toward him and helping him stand straighter.

"Holy fucking shit Rogers," was his only response as he attempted to cease the flow of blood gushing from his nostrils. "You just fucking smashed my nose to my face."

Although he was trying to hide it, I could tell he was in serious pain. I rushed to the bathroom, and immediately dampened a washcloth and grabbed some pain medicine.

"Take this," I held the mini-towel out to him, and he pressed it to his face.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening to me," I gently replaced his hand with mine, and held the towel in place. His scarlet hand dropped to his side.

"Lemme sit down," he winced, and I followed his movements and he seated himself on the edge of my bed.

"I'm really sorry," I repeated even though I knew words were useless at this point.

"Who did you think I was?" he asked.

"Pardon?" my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"When you punched me in the face, and had been shaking your shoulders trying to get you to snap out of it. If you want me to be honest, you were scaring the hell out of me. It looked like you were experiencing some kind of seizure."

I sighed, my eyes dropping. Finally, I realized that we were both in boxers and Tshirts; nightwear. It would've been awkward, but it just wasn't.

"PTSD," it was a lame excuse since it felt nowadays that it had evolved into more than that.

"Punching Tony Stark Desire?" he smirked. "Ouch," he attempted to move his mouth as little as possible as he spoke.

"Very funny."

"You're not the only one who's having issues."

This surprised me. I wasn't the only one who had fought battles and faced enemies that haunted my nightmares, I knew that. But what I didn't know that it was that extreme for the others. "Who?" I questioned.

"Me, you moron. Who else?"

That made sense. After Afghanistan (which I knew little about), plus the Stark Expo fiasco, the NY Battle, and his recent encountering with the Mandarin/AIM, I could see why Tony would be struggling.

It was silent for a few moments except for Tony murmuring cusses and groaning in pain.

"Steve?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Who did you think I was?" he repeated the question.

"Schmitt. I know he's dead. It's silly I should still dream about him," I muttered.

"I don't think so. Afghanistan still haunts me every night. And that's been over for years."

"Ya know," I offered a weak smile. "I think this is the longest you've gone without cracking a smartass joke."

"Don't count on it lasting long, Spangles. I could punch you in the face."

"It wouldn't hurt."

"Wanna bet?" he smirked. By that I realized he meant putting on an Iron Man suit and then trying to crush my skull.

"Tomorrow, I shall allow you to hit me in the face as much as you want."

"Deal."

"Without the suit."

"Awww, now you're taking the fun out of things."

The washcloth in my hand was now pure red, and I got up to get a fresh one. I returned to Tony waiting patiently.

"Well hello, Doc. Just the regular check-up today I believe." I rolled my eyes at his lame humor.

"We should wake up Bruce to set your nose."

"I'd rather have you do it."

"Tony, I've only set someone's leg once and that was because I was the only person there with any knowledge at all on the matter. It wasn't fun."

"Who?"

"A fellow soldier. He broke it jumping off a tank while it was exploding."

"So half of the time you're a soldier, one-fourth you're a doctor, and the other fourth you're a pain in my ass."

"Sounds accurate enough," I agreed.

Standing up, I announced, "I'm getting Banner. Stay here."

"Please don't leave me."

"You can survive for five damn seconds on your own. The bed shall keep you company."

"That's a real comfort."

I exited into the hall.

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

When I returned, a rather puzzled and exhausted Doctor Banner was by my side. Upon hearing what I did, he grabbed some bandage thing and briskly returned to my bedroom.

"Oh sweet baby Jesus," Bruce raised an eyebrow at the sight of Tony Stark lying down on my bed with blood all over the sheets and his face.

"What the hell did you do?" he faced me. I honestly didn't have an answer.

Working with speed and diligence, Bruce proceeded to make Tony take two Tylenols.

"I need to bleeding to stop and for your nose to numb a bit before I can do anything."

We waited about an hour for that to happen. I was starting to become worried at the amount of blood Tony was losing.

When it finally stopped, Bruce whispered to me that he'd have to realign Stark's nose manually. On mission when I broke my arm doing something or another, I had to get it set without any pain medicine or true doctor there. It hurt worse than hell.

Thankfully, Stark had both of those things.

"Hold my hand," he gave me puppy eyes. With a sigh, I surrendered to his wish.

If I wasn't a super-soldier, I was pretty sure he would've snapped my hand in half even though Banner hadn't even began his work.

"Wait, I have an idea. Tony, let go of my damn hand," he obeyed, looking worried.

I reached under my pillow and pulled out a hand gun. I opened the barrel and pulled out two bullets.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bruce stared at me in surprise.

"Dr. Banner. Trust me," I handed the bullets to Tony.

"Bite on them."

"What?"

"Am I speaking English? Bite them," I repeated.

Stark did as he was told.

"It'll help, trust me. It what I had soldiers do when I was pulling bullets out of them."

"That's disturbing," Tony said, although it sounded more like: "Dat's diztubbin."

"Ok, you ready?" Banner stared at the billionaire. He grasped my hand again, desperate for comfort and something to squeeze.

"No," he answered.

Banner began.

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

After half-an-hour of Tony screaming and going through four bullets, it was finally quiet in my room again. Bruce had gone back to bed, and Tony's once perfect face now had a swelling nose with a splint thanks to me.

Too tired to move off my bed, Tony just laid there until he started snoring. I had taken a shower, only to return and find him still passed out on my stained sheets.

I really didn't want to sleep with another man. It wasn't moral or correct on my terms. I had heard about gayism, but I always thought it...I don't know...weird.

For some reason, I couldn't resist.

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

I awoke to Tony asleep and cuddled right up next to me. I didn't realize how extreme our height difference until his knee was pressed against my hip.

Glancing at the clock, it read 5:05 AM. Damn Army schedule engraved into my brain.

Tony usually didn't wake up until after 9, if we were lucky. One time he slept through an entire day and didn't know until he was trying to find a TV show that was supposedly "on that night".

As subtle as I could, I detached myself from his warm body and crawled out of bed.

I grabbed a fresh shirt and sweats, and continued to join Natasha and Clint in the kitchen.

"There was a lot of commotion going on last night. What the hell were you doing in your room? Suicide attempts?"

Since they were highly skilled assassins and one floor above me, it was no wonder they heard some of the noise from 2 AM.

At first, I though Clint was joking about the suicide attempt thingy, but his expression was stolid and serious.

"Why? Do you think I'm depressed?" I poured steaming coffee from the pot into a black mug.

"You've just been distant lately."

"Are you worried?" I took a sip of the caffeinated liquid.

"Yes, Steve, we a-"

"Don't be. I'm fine.

"PTSD?" Barton guessed again.

"More or less," I replied, sipping the caffeinated liquid.

"If there's any way for us to help-"

"There's no stopping it. I've tried everything. There's just too much in my past."

"You didn't completely answer my question about what happened last night."

"I punched Tony Stark in the damn face."

Natasha and Clint exchanged glances before bursting out in laughter.

"What'd he do?"

"Screamed. Swore. The same stuff he would do if his favorite TV show was canceled," I shrugged.

"Captain, I applaud you," Clint clapped his hands together. "Did you break his nose?" he added as an afterthought.

"First off, why was he in your bedroom at 2 in the morning?" Natasha skillfully and gracefully hopped up onto the counter.

Embarrassed, I blushed. "I had been screaming and yelling, etc so Stark came in to try and get me to quiet down. I thought he was Red Skull and punched him in the face."

"Ha!" Clint grabbed an apple and with a satisfactory CRUNCH took a giant, crispy bite.

"Where is he now?"

"In my room still. He kinda passed out on my bed."

"So where did you sleep?"

Careful not to hesitate, I answered smoothly, "On the floor."

"You sore?"

"Hell no. I've slept on worse conditions than a twenty-grand, carpeted floor."

"Did you break his nose?"

I couldn't help but smiling. "Yes, Barton. I broke his nose."

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

After my three hour morning jog, I returned to kitchen at exactly eight AM to find Tony Stark still in pajamas and attempting to make toast. His nose was swollen and look out of proportion on his million-dollar face.

"Good morning."

I turned around and Tony Stark punched me as hard as he could in the gut.

However, I didn't flinch. The agreement I made last night returned to mind. Today I would have to deal with Tony punching me as much as he goddamn wanted.

"Holy shit! Do you have a fucking dictionary strapped to your stomach?"

"Those would be called abs. And you're gonna end up hurting yourself by trying to harm me."

"I think I just fucking did," he held his hand in pain. "Are you sure I can't use the suit?"

At the thought of going a few rounds against the famed Iron Man, I agreed.

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

"Place your bets!" Clint exclaimed, holding out his hands for willful payers.

"If you want to waste money, talk to Stark," Bruce rolled his eyes as he passed the archer.

"You know he couldn't afford that," the Widow passed the two boys and took a seat.

I quietly slipped a twenty into his hand. He smirked.

The Avengers, minus Thor, were in the basement of Stark Tower which had been transformed into an Olympic sized gym several months ago. Equipment had been cleared to create a large empty space for us to battle out our differences.

In the center of the room Tony and I were preparing ourselves: I stretched and Stark drank pints of scotch.

"Save yourself the pain and surrender now," I grabbed my lightweight shield; I was wearing my full patriotic uniform except for the headpiece. After the Loki fiasco, Tony decided to re-invent many of his armors. Six of then were inspired by each of the Avengers, and if Tony ever had to whip our asses for some reason. Such as now.

"Surrender? That fucking word isn't in my vocabulary Spangles," the face mask lowered.

"You ready?"

"Hit me with your best shot old man."

"Wish granted." I fired a punch at his armor, colliding with his stomach.

Tony had technology and weaponry on his side. I had a strategic war mind and strength.

His hand opened and a blast of arc reactor energy exploded on my chest. I somersaulted backwards and came back up on my knee, hurling my shield toward his face.

_CLANG!_

His back collided with the gym floor creating a Tony sized dent.

"Gotta do better than that, Uncle Sam," he rose back up throwing my vibranium weapon at me.

With a groan I flew into the wall, rubble falling around me. Deciding to pull a cruel prank that would work in my favor, I immediately cut the inside of my cheek with a sharp bite and let the bittersweet, salty taste of my own scarlet liquid fill my mouth. Closing my eyes, I lay as still as possible, my mouth slightly open.

At first, Tony didn't realize what had just happened.

"Yes! I win!" he held his hands in the air. Noticing I had ceased movement, and I heard his footsteps cautiously approaching me. "Capsicle? Yo, you alive?"

Resisting the urge to explode in laughter, I kept my body still.

His armor clanked as he took a knee beside me. When I felt his breathing on my face, I lightning-fast grasped my shield and collided it against his hip.

"OH SHIT!" he yelled, and I managed to pin him down to the floor while he was still under the element of surprise.

"Who's the old man now, hotshot?" I smiled as he struggled against my iron gasp. I was about to bring down my fist onto the back of his head when he powered the thrusters and flew out from under me.

Flying back around, he tried to kick me on the neck but I jumped and rolled to the side, my shield guarding me.

"Hold still, you asshole!" he screamed at me, and I laughed.

"Not sure that's happening any time soon!"

Since we were colleagues and friends, it was natural to know each other's weaknesses. Tony's most vulnerable disadvantage was his arc reactor: it was what powered his suits and his heart... If I could get to it, this battle would end almost instantly...

But it could kill him. I didn't want to win that bad.

"Tony, is this gonna end?" I slid under his legs and took out his right leg with me. With the loss of balance, he fell onto his ass.

"You'd be surprised," he smirked, and suddenly I was staring into a gun barrel that had been hidden under armor.

So he'd kill me. I wouldn't kill him.

"Fine," I hissed. "You wanna play dirty? I'll play dirty. No more Mr. Nice America."

"Like that's gonna happen," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

The brief distraction allowed me throw myself at him. I heard a shot, and felt the bullet bury itself into my side. Ignoring it, I continued to keep Tony down and began ripping the chest piece of his armor apart.

"NO! STEVE NO!"

I reached the arc reactor, Stark raised his facemask and I saw the terrified expression in his eyes.

"I GIVE UP! YOU FUCKING WIN GODDAMMIT!"

Satisfied, I released him and helped him to his feet.

"So much for technology, huh?"

Stark muttered under his breath: "You can be sexual. Interesting."

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

I lay on my bed, sketching as usual. My fingers delicately directed colored pencils in order to form the New York City skyline. Stark Tower stood proud and tall, the center of attention.

To my surprise, a knock sounded on my door. To tired to arise and open the door, I called, "Come in."

Holding a pizza take-out box, Tony Stark nervoulsy entered the room in a pair of Converse, jeans, and a Bon Jovi Tshirt.

"Yes?"

"You hungry?"

"I eat food when it's given to me," I teased him.

He sat down on the end of my bland bed in my bland room. It was designed to look like the forties, and I loved it. Except for the lack of...decoration.

"I brought Creamy Garlic Chicken for you and Pepperoni for me."

"How did you know that was my favorite?" I raised an eyebrow as I opened the cardboard box and let the aroma of freshly baked, greasy, New-York style pizza fill my senses.

"It was on your SHIELD file," he took an enormous bit out of a slice.

"You're stalking me now?" I asked through a full mouth.

"I get bored. I Google people. Or hack into SHIELD. Ya know, the usual."

We sat in silence for a bit, enjoying the wonderfulness of gooey, melted cheese burning our tongues.

"How's your bullet wound?"

"Almost completely healed."

"But it fucking happened yesterday!"

"Language, Tony. Language," I scolded him. "But I'm a super-soldier, remember?"

"Oh yeah, that does sound somewhat familiar."

"And your nose?"

"Feels like shit."

"Well then," I started on my second slice.

"Wanna try a bite of mine?"

"No, it's fine. Thank-" I was almost done with politely declining when he stuffed a bite into my talking mouth.

He hadn't used a fresh piece so I could taste where he had bitten off before, and the subtle taste of lime beer that had lingered on it.

It was sweet in a way. Refreshing.

And if that's how his pizza tasted, I could only imagine his lips.

The thought surprised me.

But then again, I'm full of surprises.

"Hey Tony?"

Turning towards me, I took in the perfection of his face. The big brown puppy eyes, the flawless black hair, the lightness of his lips. His nose that I managed to mess up.

With that, I grasped that back of his neck his my right hand, feeling the bliss of his cool skin against my palm. Eyes shut, I gently pressed his lips against mine. At first I could sense the tension in his body. A few seconds passed and then he relaxed into it. We separated, panting slightly.

"Holy shit," he muttered, wide-eyed. "Steven Rogers, how are you a virgin?"

"Was it bad?"

"No, no. It was - I mean - that was perfect," Tony ran his fingers through his hair.

"Tony?"

"Mhm?"

"I think I'm in love."

"So do I."

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

First off, it was Tony's idea. I swear to God, Jesus, and Odin.

His brilliant theory was I didn't know enough about sex and therefore I was now being forced to watch R-rated movies that were extremely intriguing.

But the best part of the deal? We got to be on the same couch together.

Tony lay on top of me, curled into my chest. I played with his hair as he adjusted the blanket covering us both.

We started with a fairly recent movie called "Rush", with an actor who looked extremely familiar in it. About halfway through, Tony realized the connection: it looked like a less-buff version of Thor. The face, the hair, everything.

"Tony, these aren't that educational," I sighed.

"Fine," he crawled out from our covers. "Get up."

"What are we doing now?"

"I'm going to teach you how to fuck, goddammit."

Let me just say that it was one of the best nights of my life.


End file.
